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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687191">The Ties That Bind</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelins/pseuds/aelins'>aelins</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A re-imagining, Basically I’m abusing and using a bunch of lines i really like ok?, Combat, Doraelin are so in love ok?, Dorchaolin reigns forever, Dorian Havilliard is a gentleman, Dorian Havilliard needs a hug and he gets it!, Dorian is valg in the beginning but not for long, Experimental Style, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Group Sex, M/M, Misuse of lines from other SJM books, Multi, Murder Husbands, Murder Wife, Non-Explicit Sex, OK., Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Rowan would just like to ask when the fuck Chaol got a back bone ??, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, War Fic, We believe in all the ships and vessels here!, wink wonk, woooop deep breath</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:55:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,778</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687191</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelins/pseuds/aelins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i>When you do, I want you to remember that it wouldn't have made any difference to me. It's never made any difference to me when it came to you. I’d still pick you. I’ll always pick you</i> </p><p> </p><p>  <i>She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and she would not be afraid.</i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>They were infinite. They were the beginning and the ending; they were eternity. The king standing before them gaped as the shield of flame died out to reveal Aelin and Dorian, hand in hand, glowing like newborn gods as their magic entwined.</i></p><p> </p><p><i><b>To whatever end</b></i> </p><p>A tale of how Aelin loves them all, no matter how time, distance and war seperates them—forever.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Dorian Havilliard, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius/Rowan Whitethorn/Chaol Westfall/Dorian Havilliard, Chaol Westfall/Dorian Havilliard/Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothian, Chaol Westfall/Rowan Whitethorn, Dorian Havilliard/Rowan Whitethorn, eventual rowaelin? maybe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. i saw my love in a stranger’s face / prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ok if you came here for some kind of immediate Rowaelin fix, please turn around now! I am in love with all of Aelin’s loves, and think that—opposite to the ‘she don’t need a man’ argument—that she should be able to have ALL her loves. This begins in Queen of Shadows, with the Aelin/Chaol reunion. </p><p>This is going to long and messy and I am here for it. There’s going to be spats and arguments and everyone’s going to earn their place at the table. </p><p>This starts out with a Aelin/Chaol scene. They have <i>sex</i>. If you do not wish to read about group sex, polyamory negotiations and lots and lots of sappy shit—INCLUDING CHAOL AND ROWAN SLOWLY FALLING IN LOVE AND NEGOTIATING THEIR RELATIONSHIP—this is not the fic for you. </p><p>I am warning you right now that all three of Aelin’s loves are going to fuck each other and then fuck her. This is not a fic for Chaol haters either. Chaol is viewed a fallible, man, but a man who would pluck stars down from the heavens for <i>all</i> of them in this fic. </p><p>Thanks for coming to my TED talk &lt;3 and enjoy. </p><p>(And Lyddy if you’re reading this please kick me for starting another WIP lmfao)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She’s looking at him, and she sees him, really sees through to his heavy, dirty soul. They’re both covered in filth, metaphorically and physically. Rowan slides away now, the memories of their fights rising to the surface. She forgets herself—forgets all the reasons she hated Chaol—as if they’d never existed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s snarling though, and she can’t fathom why—but then it occurs to her—she smells of another male. While Rowan and her had never done anything together, merely content to be friends, she’s wearing items of his clothing; he was her warrior partner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s all over you!” Chaol barks at Aelin, and she recoils. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But she’s wearing his ring, she’s got Chaol’s name tattooed on her heart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Chaol,” She pleads with him, but he’s thinner, and the kindness of his youth is long gone, “Chaol, sweetheart, I still choose you.” She says, and begins walking away. Nesryn is giving them a look, and she bares her teeth at the woman. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaol softens at this, and steps into her personal space, preventing her from leaving. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He chokes on the words, they come out in a pained gasp, “I fucking missed you, I missed you every minute, every hour, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much of pathetic fool I am for not loving every part of you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was better than an apology, that was better than anything in the whole world. Aelin smiled at Chaol, and held him. She’s still petite, though her frame is now corded with muscle and a fierce agility that no man would want to go up against. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaol looks up from their embrace and murmurs, “Welcome home, queen.” He drops a kiss to her now red hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aelin pulls his chin down to her gaze, “What you let Dorian do for you—“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaol barks a low, merciless laugh, “Was completely not my choice, you know I’d rather let you burn every inch of my flesh than let anything happen to him.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aelin sees the love and loss in Chaol’s eyes, “He’s ours.” She merely says and kisses Chaol. The room goes silent and Chaol is kissing her back with abandon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few whoops and cheers go up, and Chaol keeps kisisng her, as if the time and distance and whatever power that crept in her veins—none of it mattered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because they were Chaol, Dorian and Aelin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They would reign over the united kingdoms forever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’d always been meant to be together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Chaol can’t help but feel a thrill of joy as one of Aelin’s strong thighs wraps around his waist. She pulls away from the Captain—who was no longer a Captain, but would soon be her husband. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d never understood Chaol’s reticence to love all her, and it had been time apart they’d needed, they’d needed to learn and grow—away from each other. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chaol kisses her once more, and though there had just been a raid, this was war and if they didn’t make time for each other now—they simply might not ever have the time—before one of them died.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He inhales the scent of her hair, the smell of whatever soap she’d used last, and tried to commit to memory. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have something to tell you,” Chaol began. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aelin shushed him, “After, take me to bed.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s some cat calls and the room bursts into cheers of, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>The Queen that was Promised! The Queen that was Promised!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aelin makes a mockery of a bow, “Someone give your queen a bed, so she may ride her man.” There’s several even louder whoops. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>*~*~*</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She falls asleep next to Chaol, happy and sated, his soft breath falling against her cheek, and her thoughts go to Dorian. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The last piece in her puzzle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her friend through many dangers, Chaol’s lover for so many years, and her lover. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They would be together if she had to melt the glass castle to liquid glass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because it was always supposed to be them, Aelin, Dorian and Chaol. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>come talk to me, i’d love to hear form you on social media <a href="https://danaanruhn.tumblr.com">tumblr </a> / <a href="https://www.twitter.com/pincelings_">twitter</a>  / <a href="https://www.instagram.com/danaanruhn">instagram</a> / <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@ruhns">tiktok</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. sweet blasphemy / chapter one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The destruction of oppression is merely the beginning of their reign.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>happy thanksgiving if you celebrate. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dorian—though he could not remember his name, could not remember there were people who truly loved him—was trying to remember Sorcha. </p><p> </p><p>He had bedded no less than five ladies since her death—all because the <em> thing </em> in his head had commanded him to. For the sole purpose of harming him, of hurting his soul. </p><p> </p><p>Distantly he realizes there won’t be much of his mind left to remember <em> her </em>with, his father would burn him to ash. </p><p> </p><p>But the beloved of Mala Firebringer might come for him yet—torch the glass castle and him too if he was lucky. </p><p> </p><p><em> Aelin </em>. </p><p> </p><p>His lover, <em> or at least one of them </em>. </p><p> </p><p>He’d tried to forget Aelin, and had nearly succeeded, and had nearly forgotten Chaol’s love too. Everything was to be torched by this flame burning his very veins. He knows a <em> Prince </em> lurks beneath his thoughts, the Wyrdstone collar seemed to control his every thought. </p><p> </p><p>But the sun was shining, and Dorian was breathing; fresh, cool lungfuls of air. You see, the Valg prince slept when he was in the sun, only the magic in his veins allowed him to bear the pain. </p><p> </p><p>He wished he had any of his lovers—wished there was something to hope for—other than death. This new body, the desire to hold Aelin, to hold Chaol—it was all too much. His muscles had been honed to precision with hours of training. No longer was he tall and lean, but tall and thickly muscled. He’d trained with the King of Adarlan this morning, besting his old man. </p><p> </p><p>He feels the pain under his skin peak, and he heads inside, allowing the monster to rise to the surface once more—as the shadows take over. </p><p> </p><p>His heart was breaking, slowly but surely. </p><p> </p><p>*~*~* </p><p> </p><p>Aelin woke with a fright, and Chaol jolted awake, to soothe her. Her thighs were sticky with his seed. The nightmare fades and Chaol, Chaol slides into her, as if he was made to live between her thighs. </p><p> </p><p>They pass the morning like that, in the biggest bed the rebels had to offer and the feeling of completion comes and goes. </p><p> </p><p>When she’s bathed and dressed, Chaol kisses her cheek. She’d convinced him to shave finally and he looked so damn handsome--clean-shaven, she slaps his ass and he all but purrs at her. </p><p> </p><p>“We can’t again, I need to get a tonic.” </p><p> </p><p>Chaol doesn’t protest and tosses her some gold to get the preventative. </p><p> </p><p>“We need to do something about our man,” Aelin says finally, slipping a leather cloak over her shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>“We do.” Chaol groans, and it seems the weight of his decisions is coming unraveled in his mind. “I miss him,” Chaol sighs. </p><p> </p><p>“His magic will be out of control if the Valg has anything to say about it. I’d always suspected—“ </p><p> </p><p>Chaol turns on her, “You knew?” </p><p> </p><p>Aelin looks at Chaol like a deer caught in the headlights, “I said I suspected, and accusing the crown prince of having free magic would have been a big mistake if I’d been wrong.” </p><p> </p><p>Chaol fidgets, “He’s all we have,” and there’s something so broken in his voice it causes Aelin to sweep Chaol into her arms. </p><p> </p><p>“I will have you both—if it kills me.” </p><p> </p><p>Chaol kisses her temple, he’s leaner now, his bulky muscle remains though, and she squeezes his bicep, “He’ll remember us,” Aelin says as if it were obvious. </p><p> </p><p>Chaol rolls his shoulders and opens the door to their bedroom. </p><p> </p><p>*~*~* </p><p> </p><p>Rowan Whitethorn was on the absolute warpath. He’d drank two bottles of wine, and even that couldn’t settle the need—the absolute rage coursing through his veins. He would go to her if it fucking killed him. She <em> needed </em> him. They were a warrior pair, as inseparable as any pair of lovers— <em> mates </em>. </p><p> </p><p>He puts the dark thought far from his head. </p><p> </p><p>She would be with Chaol or Dorian now. Or both. </p><p> </p><p>The thought of the man who’d sent her to Maeve being forgiven for his transgressions—it made a shudder run through his body—even after drinking more wine than should be legally allowed. His fae blood—given he was so damned old—made him able to drink quite a bit before getting sloshed. </p><p> </p><p>He’d just barked something profane at a <em> squirrel </em> who’d dared to look at him—gods above, he was really losing it—when Lorcan approached him. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe he was more sloshed than he let on—his fae senses were muted and Lorcan was quick and silent. </p><p> </p><p>“Brother,” Lorcan says easily.</p><p> </p><p>Rowan let a snarl tear from his throat, “You knew.” </p><p> </p><p>Lorcan shrugs, “We are all bound by oaths—“ </p><p> </p><p>“You took a whip to me and let her watch.” </p><p> </p><p>Lorcan takes offense to this, “Do you know how many times we have been ordered to take a whip to you? You have never once complained—not so much one word—and we all know Rowan.” </p><p> </p><p>Rowan leaps from the tree stump he’d been drinking on and goes to suck the air from Lorcan’s lungs like hollow gords—</p><p> </p><p>But something soothes him. </p><p> </p><p><em> Her </em>. </p><p> </p><p>*~*~* </p><p> </p><p>Chaol groans, “How are we going to get in?” </p><p> </p><p>“We’re not, we have an invitation.” Aelin flashes him a small calling card. </p><p> </p><p>Chaol bangs his head against the door to his old room, placing his hands softly on the wood and gently wrapping his head again and again on the door. He then sighs and says, “We’re going to die—a Valg prince is going to <em> kill </em> us.” </p><p> </p><p>“Shut up,” she pulls his head away from the door, and sticks the calling card under his nose, “It’s signed, <em> from him </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>Chaol’s eyes go wide, “O-ok.” </p><p> </p><p>Even as Aelin looks at Dorian’s thin, slanting writing.. she’s reminded of the prince who loved her no matter the odds—no matter the risk to his person. </p><p> </p><p>But then she feels her <em> carranam’s </em> pain, and she stops in her tracks. <em> Rowan </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Chaol gives her a sharp look, “What’s wrong,” he’s by her side in a moment, a gentle hand on her shoulder, as she feels Rowan’s emotional pain go through her. </p><p> </p><p>But—<em> no </em>. </p><p> </p><p>She shouldn’t be able to feel that—shouldn’t be able to feel the yawning chasm between them with no magic in Adarlan. He was <em> safe </em>. She’d ordered him to stay safe, even if she could not be. </p><p> </p><p><em> Rowan? </em>She thinks and on the other side of an ocean--she realizes that Rowan hears her. </p><p> </p><p><em> You left me here. </em> The rage in his--well it felt like he was whispering--or rather shouting in her ear.  </p><p> </p><p><em> And now I’m telling you to come to me. </em>Aelin purrs, back through the invisible string tying them together. </p><p> </p><p><em> So changeable, consider it done my queen. </em> Rowan’s answering rumble is much softer and kinder than she deserves. </p><p> </p><p>Chaol is staring at her, “What’s wrong, baby girl? Talk to me.” The endearment warms her heart--fuck she loves Chaol. </p><p> </p><p>“Rowan. I left him behind and I shouldn’t have,” Aelin’s voice is soft and warm, “You two are going to get along like oil and water.” </p><p> </p><p>They’re still standing around like a bunch of indolent teenagers, which isn’t too far from the truth. Chaol’s room had been vacated and they were safe for a long moment. Chaol kissed her, and she felt that balm of his presence go over her. </p><p> </p><p>Chaol was--there was no other word for it--her brooding, dark and handsome mate. Oh yes, they were mates, and so were Aelin and Dorian. She thought that was what made her soul hurt so much all the time now, she wondered now if Rowan might be part of the picture too. Dorian’s mind and Chaol’s had been blocked to her while she was in Doranelle--and hadn’t opened back up to her yet. </p><p> </p><p>It was a conundrum and not one they had time to ponder. </p><p> </p><p>*~*~* </p><p> </p><p>Dorian watched with unseeing eyes, the torture of some poor servant girl who’d given information to a rebel camp--the ones on the southern continent. He swishes his hand dismissively, indicating he was bored and to put the girl beyond the pale of this world. </p><p> </p><p>The guards oblige him. </p><p> </p><p>“To see the crown prince,” One of the staff for his castle begins, and smiles deeply, “Aelin Ashyver Galathynius and King Chaol Westfall.” </p><p> </p><p>The madness that descends as Chaol and Aelin unleash themselves on the Valg guards are bloody and miserable. The scent of that horrid black blood fills the air, and Aelin spends no extra effort on killing them, beheading them with an axe and doling out mercy like an avenging angel. </p><p> </p><p>Dorian’s face is a mask of horror--and then a mask of delight and keeps fading from a grin to a grimace every few moments. </p><p> </p><p>Finally, Chaol is the one to shout, “Dorian if you’re in there, we’re coming!” </p><p> </p><p>And then it happens. </p><p> </p><p>Dorian shatters the Wyrdstone collar with his power. The power the King had sought to tame, to leash--but could not.” </p><p> </p><p><em> Dorian saves himself. </em> And Aelin is on her knees, screaming his name because surely this would not end well. </p><p> </p><p>Aelin nods to Chaol, and with the speed of a bullet out of a gun, Chaol runs to the clock tower, in the garden, doing anything to desecrate it. </p><p> </p><p>And then… blood, there is so much blood, and it’s not black but red. Dorian is bleeding out on the floor of one of the many ballrooms. </p><p> </p><p><em> And it’s truly Dorian who’s dying </em>. </p><p> </p><p>But the queen who was promised, the queen with a drop of water affinity is drawing power from the very life that was leaking from Dorian. She places a bloody palm on his chest and whispers, “Live Dorian, <em> live </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>More chaos descends, and Chaol is racing back, being given speed and swiftness he didn’t know he possessed, essentially parkouring through the guards, and as Chaol reaches the King, standing there dumbfounded in the hallway, looking at Aelin Galathynius saving Dorian--the son of her mortal enemy--Chaol takes a running jump and beheads the king. </p><p> </p><p>*~*~* </p><p> </p><p>Rowan knows she’s in need and knows he cannot wait for the ship to take him to Adarlan. He can’t take a fucking week to get to her, so he goes to Maeve. </p><p> </p><p>Maeve, through some miracle or magic, opens a portal to <em> wherever Aelin is </em>, those had been his words, his plea, his request to his former master. </p><p> </p><p>Her cruelty as she sends him flying into a fray is palpable. </p><p> </p><p>His sword is out in a moment, a feral snarl going through him. Dorian was beating back guard after guard with his free magic, it smelled foul, and he was glad to see the prince was himself again. </p><p> </p><p>But Aelin--<em> Aelin </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Chaol was crying over her still form. </p><p> </p><p>Rowan skids to a stop in front of Chaol, the <em> good for nothing worm! </em> He was crying over her body when he could be--</p><p> </p><p>Aelin wakes, and she reaches a hand into the air as if to pull an invisible sting, a thread of fate. </p><p> </p><p>And he realizes that whatever she’d done to give Chaol the power to behead the king, <em> oh he’d seen it alright, as if he were there, </em> through her eyes--had run her dry. </p><p> </p><p>He splits the skin of his palm and whispers, “Take it, take it all if you need.” </p><p> </p><p>Aelin blinks, and power roars out of Rowan’s body--and the remaining guards become cinder and ashes. </p><p> </p><p>*~*~* </p><p> </p><p>The mess is unbelievable. People were fleeing Adarlan, former magic users that hadn’t been hunted were simply disappearing into the night and never coming back. </p><p> </p><p>Dorian toyed with a small big of iridescent blue flame. It was a bit nerve-wracking to think what he’d be like as a king. </p><p> </p><p>His coronation was tomorrow, even though the blood in the smaller ballroom hadn’t been scrubbed out of the walls yet. And it never would. </p><p> </p><p>Rowan, Aelin, and Chaol all wander into Dorian’s throne room, and Dorian tries not to shatter at the sight of them. </p><p> </p><p>They’re arguing amicably, Chaol regaling them both with tales of his mysterious power. Aelin and Rowan nod knowingly, and then they all go silent. </p><p> </p><p>They’re looking at him, and he stands, puts his hands in his pockets, and tries to feign nonchalance. </p><p> </p><p>“You did it,” Dorian says, his deep voice ringing through the hollow throne room chamber. “And I will never forget your loyalty to a foreign crown,” Dorian gasps, a small sob working from his lips, “Or to me.” Dorian knelt before them, before the court of Terrasen. </p><p> </p><p>But it’s Aelin, the queen of Terrasen, beloved of Mala Firebringer, the queen that was promised, who takes his shoulders and wipes his tears, “You bow before no one my love.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>come talk to me, i’d love to hear form you on social media <a href="https://danaanruhn.tumblr.com">tumblr </a> / <a href="https://www.twitter.com/pincelings_">twitter</a>  / <a href="https://www.instagram.com/danaanruhn">instagram</a> / <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@ruhns">tiktok</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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